Randall's Road Trip
by The Mocking J
Summary: In which Randall Ascot takes a crazy trip around the country in the "borrowed" Laymobile. Henry and Hershel get dragged along for the ride, Clark is kidnapped and shoved in the boot, and they are joined by some very unwanted stowaways.
1. Chapter 1

_**[[So, I was sad and needed to write something funny to cheer myself up. The result my crazy mind could come up with is this pure crackfic. At times the characters may act slightly OOC... You've been warned.]]**_

* * *

**Randall's Road trip**

Living with Randall was like keeping a wild monkey in your house. Except a wild monkey would be less hyperactive.

Randall had never enjoyed staying cooped up indoors all day. He'd rather embrace the world and go out on exciting explorations. This drive for adventure had led to his downfall... quite literally. During a dangerous expedition at the Akbadain Ruins, Randall had tragically fallen and lost his life _(All because he refused to drop that darn mask...!)_. Or so it seemed. Eighteen years later Randall was reunited with his friends in Monte d'Or, now a fully grown man, albeit far more tanned than before. After his terrible mistakes were forgiven and forgotten, Randall began residing at the Ledore Mansion with Henry and Angela. At first, it appeared Randall's personality had become a little reserved in the years he'd spent apart from his companions. But within a few weeks of settling into his new home, the old Randall— the enthusiastic daring adventurer— started to show.

Angela was thrilled when Randall brought her an archaeology book from Henry's study. _There _was the lively boy she'd grown up with; the Randall she knew and loved. Though, no matter how much she loved him and how calm she was in most situations, Angela was horrified to discover Randall digging holes in her parlour one day. Henry, despite usually being king of the neat freaks, was more tolerant of Master Randall.

But even Henry couldn't ignore Randall's latest endeavour.

Standing on the edge of Monte d'Or's ruined museum, Henry and Angela turned to a police officer in horror.

"What did he _do_ exactly?" Henry asked.

"Well, Mr Ledore, it seems your friend took a drill beneath the art gallery and the floor caved-in."

"A... a DRILL?" Angela nearly shrieked. "Where did Randall even get _that?"_

The policeman shrugged. "No idea. Just a good thing there weren't any tourists in the gallery at the time. "

"I'm very sorry, we'll pay for all the damages and speak to him immediately," Henry promised.

At that moment, Randall came sauntering out of the wreckage wearing a yellow safety helmet. "Hi Angela, Henry," he greeted them casually.

Angela sighed. "Randall, why would you do this?"

"I heard there might be treasure hidden below the museum," Randall explained, his eyes lighting up like a little kid.

"Look, Mr Ascot," the policeman said pointedly. "I get you've got apparent rights to the land _(or whatever the heck that 'proof of ownership' document was about)._ But that doesn't mean you can go around making tunnels under public buildings whenever you feel like it."

"He's right, Randall," Angela agreed. "If you want to search for treasure you'll have to do it _outside _of Monte d'Or from now on. You're endangering people here."

"Are you breaking up with me, Angie?" Randall's lip wavered suddenly. "Y-you want me to _leave _Monte d'Or and never see you again?"

"What? _No..!_ No of course not. I just think you could use a holiday. You need to get out of the city."

"I'll be happy to accompany you, Master Randall," Henry added.

"I could stay with Hershel..." Randall said thoughtfully.

Good grief, they couldn't let Randall loose in a metropolis like London. He was a public health hazard. His presence there would be declared a national emergency!

Angela suggested quickly "I think it would be better if you visited the quiet countryside. After all, you spent eighteen years working as a farmer. Maybe a part of you misses that rural lifestyle."

"That's a great idea. ROAD TRIP! " Randall punched the air. "Henry we need to start packing. But I'd still like to see Hershel..."

**-0-**

The next day, Randall and Henry walked to the barren outskirts of Monte d'Or. The redhead carried a single orange rucksack while poor Henry lugged Randall's gazillion other bags behind him. Randall had packed a tonne of archaeology equipment, snacks for the journey, a suitcase completely filled with different coloured ascots...

"M-master Randall," Henry panted, leaning against a rock. "Where is the cab you called for?"

Randall turned to him in confusion. "Cab...?"

Henry face palmed. "Please tell me you didn't forget... How _else_ are we supposed to get out of Monte d'Or?"

"Oh, don't worry," Randall assured him. "I arranged for someone to pick us up— look, here's our ride now!"

A red car was speeding through the desert, whipping up a cloud of dust in its wake. The vehicle came to a halt in front of them and the driver leapt out, holding the brim of his top hat.

"Randall, are you alright?" Hershel studied his friend in panic. (He ignored Henry.)

"Hershel, just in time," Randall grinned. "Henry, load up the car."

"Excuse me...?" Hershel blinked as Henry started shoving Randall's luggage into the car's trunk. "Randall, what is going on? You said you urgently required my assistance. I left Emmy with Luke and departed from London immediately after you contacted me."

"We_ do_ require your assistance," Randall insisted. "You have a car and we need a ride out of Monte d'Or. Do the math."

Hershel groaned lightly as Randall jumped into the front seat of his automobile. Henry sat in the back where Luke would usually be.

"Fine," Hershel eventually conceded. "But _I'm _driving."

"Ah, c'mon, Hersh, let me try!" Randall begged. "I've never driven a car before..."

Ten minutes later, Randall's attempts to steer the car had resulted in them crashing into a cactus.

"I repeat," Hershel hissed, pulling his face out of the inflated airbag. "_I am_ _driving_."

"Fine, fine, I'll ride shotgun instead."

"So, where exactly am I taking you?" Hershel inquired once he'd regained control of the wheel. Monte d'Or was fading behind them like a mirage a dehydrated traveller might see on the sand.

"I'm not sure," Randall answered, staring idly out the window. "Anywhere I guess."

"You don't even have a planned destination in mind?" Hershel had to resist the urge to bang his head against the dash board.

Henry explained quickly "Master Randall wanted to do some archaeology work away from city."

"Yeah," Randall nodded. "Have you visited any sites of archaeological interest recently, Hershel?"

"I can think of a place..."

**-0-**

The Laytonmobile drove out of the dessert. What, you wanted me to _describe_ the whole journey? Well, tough. I don't know. Maybe Monte d'Or is in Britain. But then how would you explain the _dessert_? For all I know, the Laytonmobile transformed into a _boat_ and sailed across the ocean... or perhaps it turned into a plane_. (Wait, that doesn't happen until Unwound Future...) _I honestly have no idea.

When they'd reached civilisation, Randall had cravings for French fries so the trio stopped at a fast food drive-thru.

"Alright Hersh, here's the next one..." Randall said through a mouthful of fries (much to Henry's distaste).

"I believe we've had quite enough puzzles, Randall," Layton sighed. Randall had already given him 157 brain teasers on the journey so far. Even Hershel Layton had had enough puzzles for one day.

"Please, please, please, please, pleeeeease Hershy!"

"No!"

Regardless of his friend's protests, Randall plowed into another puzzle _"There are three wolves and three chicks standing on the edge of a river—"_

"Oh, look, we're here!" Hershel suddenly declared, cutting the engine and jumping out of the car before Randall could finish.

"So, this is Misthallery." Henry also got out and gazed at the village with a smile. "It has a very quaint feel to it."

Randall was fuming because he hadn't been able to finish saying his puzzle. He squinted through the fog that enveloped the town, muttering irritably. "I can't even see the place... And what kind of name is 'Misthallery' anyway?"

Someone replied "Do you need a hint coin to help you discover the answer to that question?"

Layton tipped his hat to the familiar man in a pink jacket and white pants who had just strolled across the bridge to them. "Greetings, Aldus."

"Hello again, my gentleman friend," Aldus clasped his hands under his chin. "Have you been keeping well since our previous meeting in Monte d'Or? I knew you would eventually return to the site of our first fateful encounter."

"Gee, Hershel, you didn't tell me you have a stalker," Randall snorted. Tired of waiting, he marched across the wooden bridge and straight into town.

"Please wait, Master Randall," Henry called. "You don't even know where you're going!"

Hershel bid Aldus a hasty farewell and the two of them chased after the redhead. They caught Randall swinging on the rope bridge that led to the Crossroads as if it were an amusement ride.

Henry wobbled halfway across the rickety bridge, reaching for his friend. "Master Randall, you mustn't do that!"

"Mustn't do what? _This?_" Grinning, Randall made the groaning bridge swing side to side again.

"Yes_, that_!" Henry cried, grabbing onto the rope banister for dear life.

Hershel rolled his eyes_. I always have to do everything, don't I? _ The professor calmly walked across the bridge, pushing Randall forward. "Stop it, Randall. Otherwise you'll give Henry a heart attack."

"Alright, alright." They came to the end of the bridge and Randall shouted over his shoulder to the blonde man, who was still firmly clinging to the rope like a sloth. "Hurry up, Henry! We don't have all day!"

Taking a left at the Crossroads, the trio passed South Pier (Randall paused momentarily to admire Bucky's boat) and finally came to Triton Manor.

"Why do we need to stop here?" Randall whined. "I want to see this amazing archaeology site you've told me all about!"

Hershel replied patiently "We will, once we have informed Clark of our arrival." He climbed the steps and knocked the front door. Randall wanted to be the first person inside so he pushed in front of the professor.

"I'm coming..." Doland Noble answered the door; he studied the unfamiliar face of the red haired visitor. "Yes...? How may I help you?"

"We're here to see Clark," Randall explained shortly, barging straight past Doland through the door.

The butler stared after Randall in distress. "Y-you can't just invite yourself inside—!"

"Hello, Doland. Please excuse Randall, he's just eager to meet Clark and explore Misthallery."

"Ah, Professor Layton, welcome," Doland smiled as he recognised the top hated man who had saved the town. Gesturing to Randall, Doland whispered "I suppose he is a friend of yours...? I'll let Master Triton know you are here."

As the butler promptly disappeared to fetch Clark, the three remained in the foyer. Henry admired the spotless work of the cleaning staff.

"Hershel, it's lovely to see you!" Brenda descended the staircase, catching the professor in a warm hug. She also offered Randall and Henry welcoming smiles. "Hello, I'm Brenda. Please make yourselves at home." (Randall had already done that.)

Randall grinned and gave Brenda's hand a friendly shake. "Hi, the name's Randall Ascot, and that's Henry Ledore over there..." He cocked his head to the side, his eyes perusing the woman. "I didn't know Clark had a daughter."

"Oh, no..." Brenda laughed; she put her hands to her cheeks as they tinged pink. "T-thank you, but I'm actually Clark's _wife_." She turned to Hershel in embarrassment. "S-speaking of which, where's my little Luke?"

"I'm sorry; I had to leave him in London with Emmy. This trip to Misthallery was all very... short notice." Hershel purposely glimpsed at Randall. Perhaps it was better that he hadn't brought Luke. After all, how would he explain to Clark that this was the man who had dangerously suspended Luke from a high wire back in Monte d'Or? True, Randall was no longer to Masked Gentleman, and Luke came out unscathed, but Randall's apologises probably wouldn't cut it for Clark.

"I see..." Brenda looked disappointed at missing her son, but she brightened again. "Never mind, I'll ring Luke later on."

At that point, Clark entered the foyer. Randall 's eyes nearly popped out of his skull as he gawked at Misthallery's mayor.

"Hello, Hershel," Clark greeted his old friend, giving Randall strange glances. "Is Luke with you? Who are these two companions of your's?"

"This is Mr Henry Ledore a...and Mr Randall Ascot," Brenda introduced the pair, blushing slightly again.

Randall frantically pointed at his chin, looking from Hershel to Clark. "Coh... Look at it...!"

"Erm, Hershel," Clark coughed "Is Mr Ascot alright? What is he referring to?"

"It's HUGE, even bigger than your one, Henry!"

"What are you talking about, Randall?" Layton hissed.

"His _BEARD_!" Randall declared, pointing triumphantly at Clark's facial hair. "It must have taken him _years_ to grow it that long! He's like a... like a _Billy goat_! Or a fancy caveman!"

Clark rubbed his well trimmed beard, rather miffed. "Excuse me, but I do _not _resemble a _goat_. Nor a Neanderthal."

"And I swear, the hair on his head looks like a _loaf of bread_—!"

"That's enough, Randall," Hershel sighed. "Why don't you politely explain to Clark what we're doing here."

* * *

_**[[Full credit for Clark's "bread hair" joke goes **__**GeorgieSusoWasSuarez**__**.]]**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**[[Last Spectre spoilers ahead!]]**_

* * *

**Randall's Road Trip **_**(Part 2!)**_

Luke walked into his mentor's office to discover Emmy digging through a green drawer. "Emmy, how long did the professah say he'd be gone for?"

"No idea," Emmy shrugged. "He had an 'urgent' call from Randall." She resumed rummaging through her boss's private belongings.

The boy gasped. "Why are you looking at the professah's stuff?"

"'Cause I'm a bit peeved that he dumped me with babysitting duty at the last second... and some of the things he's got in here are just hilarious." Emmy pulled out a photo of Layton during his teenage years, sniggering. "Oh my... Hershel Layton used to have an _athro!"_

"Wow, hahaha! Let's see if we can find anymore funny pictures of the professah!" Spotting a rolled up magazine sitting in the drawer, Luke picked it up and studied the front. His face flushed. "T-there are naked ladies on the cover... and what does this title mean?"

Emmy snatched the vulgar magazine out of his hands, shocked that the professor would even possess such an item. "You're way too young to know!"

**-0-**

"...So, Hersh told me what happened in your town with that Descole guy (_Seriously,_ _who in their right minds would be fooled by a wacko in a Phantom of the Opera getup?_), something about a giant blue sea cow, and a witch girl, but most importantly— the discovery of the legendary Golden Garden. I must witness this prehistoric wonder of nature!"

Clark sighed, clearly wishing Hershel hadn't informed Randall of said events. "I appreciate your enthusiasm for archaeology, Mr Ascot. However, the Golden Garden is very important to Misthallery (and to a friend of Luke's). Therefore it should not be disturbed quite yet if we wish to preserve-"

_"__DUN__-____DA__-____DUN__-TAH, ____DUN__-____DA__-TA, ____DUN__-____DA__-____DUN__-TA, ____DUN__-____DA__-TA-TA-TA_...!" Randall randomly started yelling at the top of his lungs.

Layton put his hands over his ears. "Randall, we do _not_ interrupt others when they are speaking!" he scolded.

"Is that the _Indiana Jones_ theme tune he's singing?" Brenda wondered, trying not to laugh at her husband's smouldering expression.

"Yes," Henry confirmed. "Master Randall is a huge fan of Indies' work. Actually, I think he believes his adventure films are real..."

In a flash, Randall was wearing a fedora, a leather jacket, boots, brown trousers and a white shirt. He cracked his leather bullwhip and raised his shovel, declaring _"Onwards my friends, to the Golden Garden!"_ andran out of the house.

"He's absolutely insane—he'll ruin the Garden," Clark cried. "_After him!"_

"RANDALL, COME BACK HERE!" Hershel called as he, Clark and Henry chased the crazed redhead out of the house. (Brenda stayed behind for, despite being the mother of a major character in the series, she has a limited number of lines. I think she had _none at all _during Last Spectre.)

"___DUN__-____DA__-____DUN__-TAH, ____DUN__-____DA__-TA...!" _

"Keep following that theme song!" Henry advised as they turned the corner and came to Bucky's boats. They saw Bucky rubbing the back of his head in disbelief.

"Bucky," Clark inquired. "Have you seen an insane red haired man pass by here?"

"He was wearing an Indiana Jones costume," Hershel cut-in helpfully.

The boatman nodded angrily. "I sure have— that guy just grabbed some oars and took one of my boats up the canal! My prized beauty!"

"Don't worry," Clark assured Bucky. "We'll find him and make him return your boat immediately. Which way did he go?"

**-0-**

"_**Dun-da-dun-**__tah,__** dun-da-**__tah__**..." **_Randall sang quietly to himself as he went up the hill. He stopped when he reached the top, ogling at the statue built in memory of Loosha. "Huh. Nice sea cow," said Randall. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed there was no water inside the dam. "Weird place to put a dam though." He walked straight through the floodgates and the pathway leading to the Golden Garden.

Randall wiped a tear from his eye when he exited the tunnel, beholding the Garden. "It... it's so _beautiful._" He pulled out his shovel._ "_I think I'll turn the whole site upside down searching for treasure._" _Randall started digging up a patch of soil on the bank, but then paused for a moment, gazing upwards as if he was aware of some higher being...

"Hey, Narrator!" Randall bellowed.

There was no reply; the man had obviously gone insane...

"I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!"

The Narrator finally conceded to answer with a growl. "_What? What IS it, Randall? You've broken the fourth wall. This better be good!" _

Randall folded his arms. "I hope you know that archaeology isn't just about digging..."

"_Well, the Narrator doesn't know squat about archaeology, okay! Now shut up and let me get on with the plot!" _

"What _plot_? This story makes little to no sense—"

At that moment Hershel, Henry and Clark entered the Garden to see Randall seemingly talking to himself.

Clark swiped the shovel out of Randall's hand while the redhead was busy with his one-way conversation. "What do you think you're doing, man? You have no right to desecrate the Golden Garden!"

"Aw c'mon, Bread Head," said Randall, glaring at Clark. "What've you got against me? Is it 'cause I'm better friends with Hershel than you are?"

"No."  
"Is it 'cause your wife thinks I'm hot?"

"No. She doesn't, anyway!"

"Then WHAT?" Randall threw his hands up. "Surely Luke couldn't have told you about what happened in Monte d'Or... He was _completely safe_! I would've caught him if he'd fallen!"

Clark suddenly spluttered in distress. "W-what do you mean? Where did Luke fall from?"

(Randall didn't notice Hershel making frantic _'Shut up!_' gestures behind Clark.) "He _didn't_ fall," Randall insisted. "He was only dangling like 100 ft above the ground from a high wire that I made."

"_Why_ was he dangling from a high wire?" Clark demanded through clenched teeth.

"Oh, 'cause at the time I was classed as a slightly insane villain and wanted to make Hershel feel guilty by terrorising someone he cared about. So I kidnapped Luke and put his life in danger. No biggie."

"H-he put _my son's_ _life _at risk..." Clark whirled on Layton. "And _you _never thought to _tell me this, Hershel?!" _

The professor sighed. "Well, now that that's out... You may as well know that Descole nearly killed Luke with his giant robot on the island of Ambrosia."

"EXCUSE ME?" Clark screeched. "I cannot believe I trusted you to look after Luke—"

"Hey, don't blame Hersh for this," Randall frowned.

"You're right," Clark's wrath returned to Randall. "You just openly admitted to threatening my son's life. I'm not sure what the police are like in Monte d'Or, but here in Misthallery you will face retribution for your crimes, Mr Ascot."

"No, _p-please_! I have a girlfriend a-and my mother will be so disappointed in me...!"

Randall's falling to his knees and wailing did nothing to change Clark's mind. Clark turned to leave. However, the bearded man was suddenly met with a blow to the head, knocking him unconscious. Henry stood with the deadly shovel in hand. Hershel and Randall gaped at him.

"Oh dear," Hershel muttered. "Clark was being an irritating prat, but he didn't quite deserve _that_."

"He was going to hand Master Randall over to the authorities," Henry calmly explained. "I had to stop him somehow."

"Crap, Henry," Randall swore in panic. He nudged Clark's prone body with his foot. "What're the villagers going to do to us when they find out you've _murdered_ their mayor?"

Hershel crouched and checked the pulse in Clark's neck, releasing a relieved sigh. "He's alive, thank goodness."

"But if he wakes up, he'll get the fuzz on me! And now we're in even more trouble because Henry attacked him!"

Henry winced and dropped the shovel (almost murder weapon). "I was only defending Master Randall... What are we going to do?"

Randall decided. "There's only one thing we can do!"

**-0-**

"_Kidnapping?_ Really, Randall—_ this_ is your bright idea?"

"I'd like to see you come up with a better plan, Mr Know-It-All," Randall snapped to Hershel. Henry was carrying Clark, who had been tied up with Randall's bullwhip and gagged with his ascot. Conveniently, all of the townsfolk were indoors at that time so nobody noticed the trio smuggling the senseless mayor out of Misthallery. They reached the edge of the village without even meeting Aldus (A.K.A. Hershel's stalker). Clark was unceremoniously tossed into the Laytonmobile's trunk, however...

"He won't fit," Henry hissed, demonstrating how the boot wouldn't shut over Clark's form.

After three attempts Randall managed to slam the boot. Then the gang of shanghaiers leapt into their getaway vehicle and Randall yelled:

"DRIVE HERSHEL, _DRIVE_!"

Tyres squealing, the car zoomed away from Misthallery.

**-0-**

"What do you intend to do with Clark?" Hershel asked once they were safely on the country road. "He certainly can't stay in my boot forever." He cast a wary glance at Henry in the windscreen. "And I don't want any more physical damage done to him. It would get blood all over the seats."

"We could dump him by the side of the road. No one would find him out here." (Randall almost sounded too enticed with that idea.)

Hershel shook his head. "Why don't we try talking to him instead? I'm sure Clark would forgive your and Henrys' actions now that everything is calmer."

"Alright," Randall agreed with a sigh. "I'll talk to Bread Head when we stop for petrol."

"You're paying for every drop of fuel."

Fifteen minutes later the Laytonmobile came to a nearly abandoned petrol station. While Hershel replenished the car's fuel tank, Henry and Randall went to 'apologise' to Clark.

"Be ready in case he tries to escape," the redhead hissed to Henry. "He's a crafty caveman..."

The trunk flew open. There was no escape attempts; only a pained groan. Clark sat up, his eyes narrowing to slits when he caught sight of his kidnappers.

"I sincerely apologise for hitting you with the shovel," Henry said.

Randall drawled "I'm sorry for taking Luke." Henry elbowed him. "And for flirting with your wife, making fun of your beard, and disrespecting the Golden Garden." Clark arched an eyebrow and glanced down at his bindings. "Oh," Randall dismissed. "It was completely necessary to kidnap you."

"We hope you can forgive us," Henry finished before Randall could make things more awkward. Clark rolled his eyes, heaved a sigh and nodded his head, knowing this would be the easiest way out.

"So you _do _forgive us?" Randall grinned. "Great! We may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but I'm sure we're all going to be great friends. You're officially part of the team now." He helped Clark out of the boot and untied him.

"Finally, it smells like feet in there," Clark wrinkled his nose at Hershel's boot. "I just want to forget this ordeal ever happened. Please, take me back home and I promise I won't get the police involved."

"Of course, Clark," Hershel returned from paying for the petrol, smiling.

"Aw, don't leave yet," Randall pouted. "Come on, Cavema— I mean, _Clark_. Join us on our magical road trip to discover archaeological wonders!"

"Well, I don't think—" Clark was about to decline when he noticed Henry's dark expression. (It was a warning: _Don't you dare upset Master Randall. Or else.) _"I mean, I would _love_ to join you," Clark amended hastily, smiling weakly at Randall. "L-let's go then..."

Thankfully, Clark was allowed to sit at the front with Hershel. He couldn't bear being next to Henry.

Randall bounced on the back seat. "Does anyone know any good car songs? I've got one!"

* * *

_**[[I lied about this being a two-parter. I'm having way too much fun to finish it just yet. :D So, Clark is also onboard the Layton-mobile... Who will be next? ]] **_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Third Instalment of Randall's Exhilarating Road Trip **

"_I've got a lovely bunch of ascots_

_There they are all hanging in a row_

_Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head..."_

"Shut up, Randall!" Hershel snarled.

The trio-turned-quartet had been driving for roughly three hours along a rural lane with nothing except redhead's constant singing. (Randall could've been a broken record in a past life.)

Professor Layton's boundless patience had finally reached its limit. Clark sat with his hands shielding his ears, hoping to drown out the madness. The only one who seemed immune to Randall's irritating nature was Henry.

Randall huffed, "It's not _my _fault your ancient car doesn't have a radio." Thankfully, he did stop singing... only to start poking Henry. However, Henry offered about as much reaction as a rock. So Randall poked Clark instead, and kicked Clark's seat, and muttered _"Bread Head_" under his breath. Clark gritted his teeth, ignoring Randall at first. But the torment became too painful to ignore.

"Heeeershel," Clark howled like a discontent toddler. "Randal won't stop _bugging _me!"

I amend my earlier statement... _Now _Hershel's patience had finally reached its limit.

"THAT IS _ENOUGH, _RANDALL FRED JONES ASCOT JR!" Hershel thundered, turning to shoot a piercing glare at the now petrified Randall. The professor had taken his eyes off the road for a mere moment. Suddenly, something hit the hood of the car. It was definitely human shaped. Everyone excluding Henry screamed.

"What was _that?" _Hershel yelled, slamming down the brakes with a _screech._ "What the _hell _did we just hit?"

"You HIT a PERSON!" Randall wailed. "A LIVING, BREATHING _PERSON_!"

"I WOULDN'T HAVE IF _YOU_ HADN'T DISTRACTED ME!"

"Oh God, oh God, I really don't want to be here right now, I really don't want to be here..." Clark whimpered. The mayor put his head between his knees and tried to find a happy place.

Despite the current situation, Henry was cooler than ice water. He calmly suggested, "Hershel, you should check if whoever-it-is is alright."

"Y-yes, of course," the professor agreed, stepping out of the vehicle to catch a glimpse of the poor fellow they'd collided with. Hershel crept in front of the car's bonnet to find the victim lying face down. _The man seemed familiar..._

"No need to worry," Hershel assured his alarmed friends with a casual wave. "It's just _Jean Descole_."

"You mean the Phantom of the Opera wacko?" Randall hollered.

"Yep, that's the one."

Clark breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that changes everything. He deserved it."

The rest of the group got out to gawk at Descole's (probably broken) body.

"What on earth was he doing out here?" Henry wondered. They had been blindly travelling in whichever direction Randall wished. No sane individual would come this way without a valid reason.

"Jogging," Randall answered plainly. He pointed to the black tracksuit Descole was wearing under his cloak, his running shoes, and the earphones connected to an iPod in the scientist's pocket.

"I never knew my nemesis enjoyed going for evening jogs," Layton whispered. Come to think of it... There were a lot of things he would never know about Descole now.

The other three gasped when Hershel respectfully removed his top hat; a single tear rolled down his cheek. "I-I'll always remember the times he attempted to obliterate me," Layton lamented. "And his giant robots, and his disguises, a-and his PMS temper tantrums..."

"Pull yourself together, Hershel!" Clark snapped. "This was the wicked man who _kidnapped my wife _and nearly _murdered Luke. Remember?"_

"I know, I know," the archaeologist sniffed. "I'm j-just sorry he had to die in these circumstances. _Killed on an evening jog. _How humiliating.A dramatic criminal of his calibre truly deserves to go out with a bang..."

Randall shrugged. "Welp, if he's dead we may as well nick all of his stuff. Dibs on the iPod and the mask." (Fun fact: Randall is almost as obsessed with masks as he is with ascots.)

Before they could strip Descole of his valuables, there was weak a moan. Randall gasped, dropping his new iPod. "HE'S BEEN RESSURECTED AS A ZOMBIE! QUICK, EVERYONE BACK IN THE CAR! LET'S RUN HIM OVER AGAIN!"

"Though Randall's idea is absurd, I actually agree with him," Clark muttered. "The world is better off without Descole."

_Could it be? _Ignoring his friends, Hershel squatted beside Descole, picking up his wrist. "Yes...he _is _still alive! Thank goodness!"

"So he's _not _a zombie?" Randall confirmed. "In that case, let's take him with us."

"_What?" _Clark demanded. "You cannot be serious."

"Randall's right..." _(Those two words should never exist together in a sentence.) _"Descole can't die yet. We still need him alive for the Azran Legacy."

"Now that you mention it," Randall frowned, "How come _I _don't get a cameo in any other game besides Miracle Mask?"

"_I _do," Clark said smugly. "Brenda and I make an appearance in the sixth game—"

"Indeed, but who's name appears in _every title_?" Hershel reminded them, sticking out his tongue. "I think you'll find it's the beloved protagonist _Professor Layton_. Beat that, suckers."

Henry pointed out, "You're forgetting _Layton Brothers Mystery Room_—"

Lightning suddenly flashed overhead. _"WILL ALL OF YOU QUIT BREAKING THE BLOODY FOURTH WALL?!" _The Narrator rumbled. _"GET ON WITH THE STORY ALREADY!" _

"O-of course, sorry..." Hershel lifted Descole bridal style, carrying him to the car. The masked man's head lolled as Hershel gently strapped him in the back middle seat.

"Please, let's just drop him off at the nearest hospital," Clark begged.

Randall shook his head furiously. "There's no time! Only the Elixir of Eternal Life can save Descole now!"

**-0-**

Meanwhile, Professor Layton's 'loyal' assistants had completely turned his office upside down. It seemed Emmy and Luke didn't possess an ounce of respect for their mentor's privacy. _They may never have a chance like this again._

The pair had invaded every cabinet, every drawer, riffled through books before throwing them off the shelf, and even pulled up some of the floorboards to unearth what secrets lay hidden below.

Their discoveries were... quite disturbing. Mostly they found more photos from the professor's university days, some including Luke's father. After seeing one unsavoury picture, Emmy had to briefly explain the concept of a strip club to Luke. But that wasn't the worst of it. Concealed in a jar on the desk was a lock of curly auburn hair. Between the settee arms there was a bottle of wine. Under the professor's spare top hat lived a white rabbit. And let's not forget the collection of punk rock records behind the gramophone...

Emmy had just located the professor's stash of sherbet lemons when someone knocked and suddenly entered the room. Emmy froze; her cheeks stuffed with sweets like a greedy hamster. She slowly turned to see Rosa tapping her foot.

"Eugh, look at _this_, Emmy!" Luke turned to show Emmy the girlie underwear he'd just pulled out of a box meant to be filled with maps. Then he too caught sight of the cleaning lady. "Oh... Er... Hi, Rosa..."

Flushing, Emmy quickly went to swipe the yellow panties away from Luke. _(How had the professor gotten hold of these?!) _

Rosa tutted. "You two should be ashamed of yourselves, going through the professor's things..." Emmy and Luke waited for Rosa's sharp scolding. _"...Without me."_

* * *

_**[[And now Descole's joined the gang as well... sort of. I'm trying to think of a funny nickname for Randall to call him. **_

_**Was the humour okay in this chapter? I'll admit, I laughed when I was writing it, but hopefully that's not just me.]] **_


End file.
